


I Am All Of Me

by Kerriathechosen1



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starting Over, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-12 20:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerriathechosen1/pseuds/Kerriathechosen1
Summary: It was all a simulation -- everything happened in a virtual reality. Rantaro wakes up first, a little confused, but he knows the drill. He's numb to the cruelty of the game. He knows that those who come out of the game are never the same. He knows their lives are ruined. They're alone, suffering endless guilt and trauma just so the world can make memes from their misery. It's sick, but Rantaro doesn't pity them. He doesn't care about them. ... Except for Kaede, since he feels responsible for "dragging her down with him".But helping one of the survivors move on leads to a chain reaction, because Kaede retained her sense of justice from her game self, and she doesn't want to leave anyone alone. For the first time in Danganronpa history, the survivors are refusing to go their separate ways. They will become a family, and they will help each other survive this time -- all of them.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. You're You

**Author's Note:**

> This story will probably only be uploaded once a month. Please review and critique -- everything helps!

_Beep. Beep._

Rantaro Amami felt the glow of a billion suns beaming down on his heavy eyelids. He didn’t feel the need to open them -- especially when he heard that oh-so-familiar sound, and the shuffling of nurses by his bedside. Rantaro recalled all the moments of his childhood when his sense of adventure had led him astray -- when he’d climbed the ferris wheel (while it was moving), fallen, and broken his arm. When he’d gone cliff jumping a bit too high and hit the water in just the wrong position. When he’d entered the abandoned building and stepped right through the floorboards.

All minor things, leading to a lot of pain and an extended stay between four white walls. But it was comforting, in a way. Hearing the sound of the monitor reminded him that he’d survived again. That he could take it easy, because he’d make it through another day. It was a joyous occasion, waking up in the hospital, because with all of the traveling he’d done, to so many foreign countries and cultures he knew little about, it was nice to have at least something familiar in his crazy life.

But this time was different. That familiar ease soon dissipated, leaving behind fog that accumulated into layers of uncertainty in his mind. Because, no matter how calm the hospital vibe might make him feel, it couldn’t overtake the frantic fear pounding in his heart.

_I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?_

The beeping rate increased just slightly -- not dangerously, but enough to cause a shift at his bedside that did not go undetected by the boy. A mouselike voice suddenly squealed for someone outside the room. Light footsteps emerged from the depths of the hallway, and a body replaced the mouselike voice at his side.

“R-Ra-Rant-t-taro Amami…?” came the shaky, also mouselike voice. It was a woman’s voice -- one that he felt he’d heard before, but couldn’t quite remember where. “I-I’m your assigned nurse. I-I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but… could you please open your eyes and help us gauge your condition first?”

The voice was pleasant, if not sweet to the point of sickness. Rantaro thought for a moment that this girl sounded worse off than he felt. … In fact, he didn’t feel much anything, at all. But he could dwell on that later.

“Dim the lights, or you might burn out my pupils,” he joked, though it surprised him to hear just how hoarse his voice sounded -- like he hadn’t used his vocal chords in days. That was only more concerning.

“O-O-Oh! Right! I-I-I’m sorry!” cried the gentle nurse. Rantaro felt a little bad; she sounded like she was genuinely upset over something so small. Nevertheless, the light was soon turned down, and Rantaro slowly forced his eyelids open.

He stared forward silently, a vacant expression creeping across his face. The dread he had been feeling began building up, more and more, as his eyes roamed the circular room his bed was in. In fact, it was not a bed -- it was some sort of oval-shaped pod with a cushion inside for him to lay on, thoughtfully-placed. There was a helmet on his head -- he could feel its heaviness. The room itself had bright, ocean-blue walls, and though he could not move his head, he could see other pods from the corner of his eyes, on both sides of him. Perhaps there were even more. But that wasn’t his main concern.

This was not a hospital. This was unfamiliar. This was unsettling.

_But, no -- it IS familiar. Don’t you remember?_

A part of him felt that there _was_ a connection somewhere, lying just out of reach… But Rantaro couldn’t connect the dots. He was tired, inexplicably tired, and he felt like just closing his eyes and going back to sleep.

“M-Mr. Amami…?”

Rantaro tried to turn his head, to get a good look at the nurse beside him. She had long, purple hair and choppy bangs. She was quite thin, but not dangerously so. Her apparent nervousness made her seem less put-together than the other nurses he had seen before. Yet, he felt like he could trust her, like he knew her from somewhere, despite the formality in her voice.

He had so many questions, but somehow what popped out was, “Is there a reason I can’t move my head?”

Her eyes widened. “A-Ah, yes. We’ll begin the transfer immediately! I’ll h-have the others take you to your own room, so you can begin rehabilitation. Please hold all questions until then!” Her voice was shaky, but as her eyes moved across the room, Rantaro could sense her expertise and superiority. He felt several silent hands touching the helmet on his head, pulling apart cords and rolling up wires until they could finally separate it and lift the metal covering off of him. He felt the notable decrease in weight over his head and relaxed his tense muscles, just a little.

“We need to move you into another room,” the head nurse stated once more.

“Yes, you said that already.” Rantaro didn’t mean to come off as rude, but he was anxious for an answer, an explanation -- he didn’t want to know what they were doing. He wanted to know what they’d already _done_, and what was coming next.

“W-We have to get you onto the stretcher,” she continued. Rantaro noted the presence of the stretcher sitting right beside the pod, and the silent nurses’ hands waiting to move him. It was as if they were waiting for his consent -- like he had a choice.

“... Well, if you’re gonna do it, then do it.”

* * *

His memories returned to him as the stretcher was carefully pushed down the hallway. It was quite disturbing, really, how something as simple as a familiar hallway could spark the recalling of multiple sets of lost and returned memories, just like that. It all came back at once, and he gasped by the overload in his brain, shutting down all of his current senses, as he tried to sort out the memories -- the truths and the lies, season 52 and season 53, his real life hidden among the three. How many times was he really rolled down this hallway, again? Could he be sure it was three? Yes, yes, it must have been -- because it wouldn’t make sense if there were any more or any less. Oh, how difficult life became, when you could remember living three completely different lives, having three completely different families, and then waking up to realize that so many of your loved ones never existed at all in the first place.

They were made up. Fiction, to appease the masses who adored the popular tv show, “Danganronpa”. All characters needed a backstory, and now he had two. And Rantaro couldn’t understand, couldn’t understand _why_ it was necessary, _why_ it truly mattered to them who he was, _why_ they had to continuously mess with his mind until all that was left was scrambled like eggs.

By the time his brain was fully functional again, hours had passed, and he was already tucked peacefully into a small bed in a small hospital-like room, with the head nurse sitting peacefully by his side, examining the monitors that contained all of his _real_ information, the data that _mattered_.

Rantaro would never agree to participate in this again. _Never_.

The nurse looked at him suddenly, her eyes staring so deep within his that he felt himself flinch. An awkward smile came naturally to him, and he found himself greeting her like an old friend. “Hey, Mikan. How’s it look?”

Mikan Tsumiki, the Ultimate Nurse in her made-up life. Like most of them, she left the game world with all of the knowledge of her Ultimate ability she needed to succeed in life. If there was one good thing about participating in Danganronpa, it was the newfound skills they could apply to the real world. She was one of the first groups of participants as well, so she had been around for a long time, and she knew exactly what it was like to be in his position. Rantaro felt much better having her around rather than some avid viewer who might rant about what they’d seen on the show. Even if Mikan’s fake self was known for her clumsiness, her quiet, understanding demeanor made her the best nurse out of all of them.

“You’re doing quite well,” she said politely. “We thought… you might have more problems. Since you’d already had your memories replaced once. But you’re doing better than we ever could have expected. It’s probably because you left so quick.”

Rantaro couldn’t quite remember what or who had killed him, but it was quite obvious that he had somehow become the first victim. “Yeah… Ultimate Survivor, my ass.” He shook his head. “Well, I think I’m satisfied enough with reality to leave it at that. Don’t you think?”

Mikan nodded, her face still stoic, still unmoving, yet comforting. “Yes.”

* * *

It didn't take very long for him to adjust. Typically it took a few days to go through the therapy, the rehabilitation, to sort through one's consciousness and recall what was true or false. But Rantaro was a seasoned player, and dying first really helped. As he couldn't remember exactly how he'd died, his body had no serious problems adapting to his current state. If he'd wanted, he could have left. But he hadn't made up his mind yet on where he wanted to go.

Also, there was the lurking question in the back of his mind… Who was the first blackened? Rantaro couldn't bring himself to care much for the fates of the other participants; he was almost numb to empathy at this point. But he couldn't figure it out, and it bothered him that something took advantage of him so easily.

That was what convinced Rantaro to turn on the tv and watch the game. Thankfully, the show was recorded, so he could just rewind back to the moment.

Which was when he realized the mastermind’s trap.

Watching his own murder by the true mastermind should have answered his question, but then he realized that the game should have been over, for two reasons. First of all, if the class trial’s verdict was correct, the mastermind would be killed and the game would be over. Sure, none of the fans would be particularly excited by that ending, and riots would break out, but what else could Tsumugi do? She’d dug herself into a hole, If the verdict was incorrect, everyone else would die, and the game would be over just as quick.

Rantaro’s eyes narrowed. No -- the game could never end that quickly. There was a hidden scheme in there somewhere. And as soon as he saw the look of guilt on Kaede’s face, he knew who the mastermind was going to pin it on. He felt rage build up within him, and he couldn’t stop himself from cursing and throwing his remote into the tv screen. The screen shattered, causing panic among the nurses who heard the sound and came running in. The look on Mikan’s face should have made him feel bad, but the only one he could pity was Kaede.

The tv was not going to be fixed for another day or two. That was all right with Rantaro, because he didn’t want to watch any more. All he wanted to know was when he was allowed to see Kaede. Days had passed, so Rantaro knew that she had woken by now -- maybe even the second victim had woken, he wouldn’t know -- but until her mental state was determined adequate, he could not enter her room.

When Mikan finally told him she was ready, he jumped out of his bed, revitalized with nervous energy. He wasn’t actually sure she’d be willing to speak with him, after all, but he felt the need to see her, to tell her it wasn’t her fault.

So when the door opened, and he stepped in, the look on her face saddened him. She was so pale, more than usual, and her soft plum-colored eyes, usually so full of life, were empty as they watched the white ceiling with disinterest. Rantaro had recognized that look, seen it in the survivors of the other games -- the ones who struggled to move on, who he hadn’t taken the time to _help _move on. With them, he hadn’t felt obligated, but Kaede -- she deserved it. Even if it was just his guilt motivating him -- his guilt for dragging her down with him.

.Her eyes lingered over him, suddenly registering that he was there. Something stirred, and recognition -- followed by hurt, fear, and resignation -- replaced the emptiness. She turned away from him. He took a deep breath, and stepped closer into the room.

“Kaede.”

“Stop,” she snapped, turning her head so that he could see the contempt in her eyes. The Kaede from the game wasn’t capable of such a harsh look. The sudden change in emotion caused Rantaro’s head to spin. “I don’t -- that wasn’t -- I’m not the girl on the tv.”

Rantaro understood her frustrations, more than she could realize. “I know.”

Pain flickered behind Kaede’s eyes. “Why are you here, then? If you know I’m not about to give you my pity.”

Rantaro shrugged, and sat down on a chair beside the bed. Every slight movement in his arms, his legs, his face, was feigned casualty -- not a hint of hesitation. “Because. Even if you’re not the girl on the screen anymore, everything she once was is now a part of you.” He pointed toward her chest, toward her heart. Conflict and sadness scrunched up her face. “Whether you like it or not. And even if you’re not guilty, I’m betting that the Kaede you’ve hidden deep down inside is keeping you up at night with memories of murder.” He held up his hands in a ‘what can you do’ fashion -- one of those gestures he could never remember doing much in his real life, that had carried over from his false identity. “Trust me -- I’ve been through this before. You can feel like you hate everyone and everything in the world, but then there’s that small voice, whispering memories of a happy childhood with smiling sisters who you can never go back to, no matter how much you want to.”

His voice had fallen into a melancholic whisper, as he felt the longing to see his many sisters once again -- sisters he had never seen or met before, whose faces he knew like the back of his hand, whose quirks he could never forget, whose voices he still heard when he fell asleep.

He hadn’t realized just how much emotion he still carried inside him, hadn’t realized how much he needed to tell someone about it. He glanced at Kaede, hoping he hadn’t annoyed her, and realized her face was drenched with silent tears.

His protective brotherly instincts kicked in, and in seconds he was beside her in the bed, holding her to his chest and rubbing his hands up and down her back, whispering words of comfort as she sobbed into his shirt. Her arms were wrapped around his back, her fists clenching the back of his shirt.

“I-I’m sorry, Rantaro… I’m so, s-so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you.”

He had meant to tell her that it was Tsumugi who had done it, that killing him wasn’t even the _fake _Kaede’s fault -- but she misinterpreted his words, and kept talking.

“I ha-ate this,” she whispered, with a sniff. “I don’t even know... who I am anymore…”

“You’re whoever you want to be,” Rantaro replied, realizing all of a sudden that they did have a choice -- that perhaps they had more of a choice now than before. “You’re you.” She tightened her grip on him, and he said it again, with more confidence. “You’re you."


	2. I Was Wrong

Rantaro and Kaede sat on the floor, playing a game of Jenga. They were surrounded by board games—games that Rantaro and the other Danganronpa subjects had been offered several times following their awakenings. Hardly anyone had ever touched them, since very few of the survivors would connect enough to play games together anyway.

Kaede’s eyes were intense as she slowly, cautiously pulled one of the wooden tiles out from the middle of the tower. Rantaro chuckled. “You never take the risks, do you?” He pulled one out from the sides, a little quicker. Kaede’s eyes widened as the tower trembled, but it soon stabilized on its own; not a single piece fell.

“You take too many,” she grumbled, leaning from side to side with focused eyes, searching for the next safest tile to remove from the tower.

The two of them had grown pretty close over the past couple days. Rantaro had been skeptical about getting too attached to her, as he always was when it came to people. His past—his true past, not his Danganronpa ones—didn’t exactly shape him into a model teen. He’d always been more on the wild side, opposed to anyone who tried to control him. He only ever did what he wanted to do. It got him into shady situations, and nearly got him killed. He’d broken the law more times than he could count, whether by stealing, breaking and entering, vandalizing public property, or smuggling. He loved crime; witnessing or participating in violence was one of the only things that truly excited him and made him feel alive. Danger was his friend, and peace was his enemy. He wanted to see the whole world, without any people chaining him down. Relationships meant people trying to control him, or people to tattle on him. He’d renounced his family and friends long before Danganronpa. None of them could ever understand him.

But after Danganronpa, things were different. He remembered a (fake) life in which relationships gave him pride and happiness—a life in which he could still adventure and explore the world, without giving anyone up. His (fake) sisters were proof of that. Even now, remembering his real life, he still loved those girls who never existed. Kaede reminded him of them; playing games with her and listening to her rant about trivial matters reminded him of those relationships he still cherished. He wanted to be there for her, just as much as he wanted to hightail it out of there.

He came to learn that the real Kaede wasn’t that different from him. She also hadn’t cared for humanity in the beginning. “I lived in a crappy city, and like lots of people, I saw things that corrupted people,” she’d told him, voice distant. “Adults pretending to be poor just to make extra cash off of pity. Sudden unjust riots killing innocent children. Horrifying criminal acts that just… numb you to the world. Danganronpa would’ve made me rich, and I didn’t think it could traumatize me any more than the real world did.”

“But you were wrong,” he’d pointed out needlessly.

She’d nodded, her eyes dark. “I was wrong.”

* * *

However, Kaede still retained her in-game compassion and desire for community. She would deny it, but there was no other reason Rantaro could think of for her to pressure him into greeting their returning classmates with her. She wanted him to welcome each and every one of them, just like he came to see her. Kaede and Rantaro decided to watch this run of Danganronpa together, and then when it was over, they would leave it all behind, for good. He was all right with that; as long as the end was in sight, he could live with it. And it seemed to give Kaede some much-needed catharsis.

Still, he didn’t see why he needed to actually spend time with his fifteen (actually, thirteen, subtracting Tsumugi and Kiibo) “classmates” he never got to know or care about in the first place. He didn’t see the point in wasting his time reliving this fake world. But if it helped Kaede, and the end was in sight… he’d give it a shot.

Ryoma had already woken up, and had been going through rehabilitation for a few days; the same went for Kirumi, although she was lagging behind in terms of progress. Both were recovering much slower than Kaede, who thought it might help if she and Rantaro paid them individual visits. She pled her case to Mikan, who promised to see what she could do; then, all they could do was wait.

Kaede was the one who ended up toppling the Jenga tower. Rantaro laughed at her wide-eyed expression as everything went crumbling. Just as her eyes were narrowing with a plan for payback, a gentle knock interrupted their fun.

“Come in,” Rantaro called. The door slowly opened, and Mikan was there, twiddling her thumbs timidly. “What’s up?”

“Ry-Ryoma is now accepting visitors…”

Rantaro glanced at Kaede, who had bounced onto her toes. She looked tense. “Thank you, Mikan.” She met his eyes, and smiled—almost as bright as the fabricated Kaede.

Almost.

* * *

Ryoma was rather… quiet. Not that much unlike his Danganronpa self. There was something peculiar about his silence, though; he didn’t have that menacing aura about him that they were used to. This Ryoma could barely stand to look them in the eye for more than a couple seconds. He didn’t speak unless prompted, and chose to use gestures as much as possible.

Kaede did all the talking. All the boring shit—“How are you feeling? When did you wake up? Do you remember when it happened?” Ryoma flinched when she brought it up, his hands coming up behind his head protectively. Rantaro pulled Kaede away, about to yell, “What the hell’s wrong with you?!” when Ryoma’s hands dropped and he murmured, “It’s okay.”

Kaede tried inviting him to play Jenga, but he didn’t seem interested in leaving his bed, so she just started talking about the outside world, or about what she and Rantaro had been playing—whatever would get the bad memories out of his mind. When the nurse came back in to tell them their time was up, Ryoma still hadn’t spoken—he simply lay there with glazed eyes.

Rantaro sighed, shaking his head. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be of any use,’ he thought to himself as he got to his feet. Kaede was close behind him, stopping to tie her shoes first. Rantaro realized that, the whole time he was in the simulation, something as simple as tying his shoes never even crossed his mind. He didn’t know why that felt significant, but it was all he could think about, even after Kaede was done and they headed for the door. A few steps from the doorway, they were stopped by a quiet, “Hey.”

Rantaro turned around; Ryoma had sat up and was looking at them, a heavy sadness set in his eyes… but also… gratitude?

“Thank you. … No one’s ever been as kind to me… as you have right now. C-... C-Can you come again?” Ryoma barely forced out the words. Rantaro hadn’t been imagining it—his voice really was meeker in real life. It was still deep, but he realized that part of it was forced, to sound tougher than he was. Ryoma’s eyes shone as he stared into Rantaro’s shocked green orbs.

“... Yeah. Of course.” Kaede smiled warmly. “But for now, get some rest, okay?”

Ryoma grimaced but nodded, sinking back into his bed. Kaede fixed Rantaro with a knowing gaze before leaving the room. Surprised, Rantaro followed without comment.

* * *

Watching Danganronpa—even just little highlight reels—was emotionally exhausting. The more time Rantaro spent watching his classmates, the more he found himself chuckling at their jokes, smiling at their conversations, and mourning losses that were not his own. He was starting to remember why civilians got hooked on this tv program; it was just unfortunate that entertainment meant an adolescent loss of sanity.

Angie and Korekiyo were the two who unsettled him the most. Angie’s cult was the more recent event, and it was one of those things that infuriated him so much, he wanted to throw the remote and burst the screen with her face on it. Korekiyo, on the other hand, was simply… strange from the get-go. Rantaro had been around the world in some of his lives, but he had never met someone whose penetrating eyes and creepy manner of speaking could give him goosebumps the way Korekiyo could.

Rantaro bet that Angie and Tenko would be next, based on the general pattern of Danganronpa cases, and the escalating problem that was Angie’s cult. He then passed out on the couch, dreaming of a peaceful beach getaway with Kaede, Ryoma, and all of his sisters. He woke to Kaede booping his nose, before telling him that she’d made ramen and tea, and that if he didn’t move his ass, she’d give it to the family cat.

“What do you mean, the family cat?” He asked, wrinkling his nose.

She rocked on her feet. “Well, Ryoma’s not gonna be stuck to his room for much longer, and I dunno about you, but I’m thinking it’ll be about five days before he steals or adopts one of his own.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I heard Mikan discussing the policy on letting cats into the building.” Kaede grinned deviously, like she’d just gotten away with a grave crime. Or finally beaten Rantaro at Jenga.

Rantaro squinted. “Let me get this right… You’ll hoard old, cold ramen for about a week just to feed it to a cat we don’t know exists, if I don’t get up this very minute?”

“... Get your ass up and come get your meal.” She spun on her heel and strode into the kitchen. Rantaro watched her as she left, wondering what he’d done to turn Kaede into his mom.

* * *

Rantaro woke the next morning to the rising sun; its light entered through the blinds of his window, a sample of the daylight’s warmth. Groggy as he was in the morning, he longed for his time indoors to be up, awaiting the day he could be free on the streets once more, able to climb to the rooftops and bask in the sun’s glow. He was an early riser, so as soon as he registered the light, he began to shift in his bed. Only then did he register the arm interlocked with his.

He’d been lying on his back, with Kaede lying sideways, hugging his left arm like a body pillow, or a teddy bear. Sound asleep, she looked so peaceful—as if there wasn’t a mean bone in her body. He couldn’t remember getting into this position, but he _ did _ remember promising to watch _ Inside Out _ with her last night. He remembered the movie up to the moment Joy abandoned Sadness and fell down into the pit to be forgotten; after that, everything lost clarity. Rantaro gazed down at Kaede affectionately, but firmly platonically. This girl, this was his new family, his new, _ real _sister. If she needed him to be her rock, so be it.

Rantaro chose to lay there, as still as could be, closing his eyes against the gentle light.

* * *

Kirumi was the next to be allowed visitors. Kaede had been visibly disturbed by her execution; Rantaro felt an ounce of pity, and perhaps a little disgust, but he was mostly unfazed. He’d seen worse.

They both knew she was going to have a rough time waking up. Mikan wouldn’t tell them how bad it was, but they knew. Anyone who thought so highly of themselves, who was willing to undergo unimaginable suffering for hundreds of people, only to realize those people never really cared about her to begin with… It was tough to swallow.

She didn’t truly want them there. Rantaro had been imagining it during Ryoma’s first visit, but he was positive about it during Kirumi’s visit. She sat straight-up in her bed with a trained elegance in her posture, but it was all a facade. She didn’t know what to do when her mask broke, because what lay underneath was nothing extraordinary, after all.

* * *

Kaede’s eyes were shifty, moving from Rantaro’s face to Ryoma’s face to the cards in her hand. She bit the inside of her cheek, finally selecting two cards, placing them face-down on the pile with a triumphant, “Two fives!” She hadn’t even removed her fingers from the cards before Rantaro crossed his arms and called out a sassy, “Bullshit.”

Kaede gasped like she’d just been struck with a grave insult. Or a backhand. She perked up, dropping her cards on the floor and placing her hands on her hips. “Oh? And why do you always suspect me?”

“Because Ryoma’s too scared to cheat, you screwed up and showed me your cards, I placed a 5 down earlier and have two now, and you did that thing you always do when you cheat.” He smirked at her sharp glare. “Got any objections to that?”

Kaede looked like she wanted to say something, but she zipped her mouth shut and picked up her cards instead, holding them to her chest so Rantaro couldn’t see a thing. He rolled his eyes. “It’s not fun when I know everything. Let’s play Sorry.”

“Mmmgh. Fine.” She flipped her hair to the side; it was brown and damp from her morning shower. “You cool with that, Ryoma?” The boy flinched when his name was spoke; he looked up at her with wide eyes, as if asking for permission to speak. She nodded gently.

“Y-Yeah… I’m cool with that.”

“Good.” Rantaro gathered up all of the cards, shuffling them and putting them back into the little box, as Kaede groaned lazily and used the armrest of the sofa to pull herself to her feet. She walked over to the board game shelf and returned with Sorry.

“... Rantaro?” Ryoma’s voice sounded hesitant.

“Yeah?” The green-haired teen didn’t look at him.

“... I was cheating the whole time.”

Rantaro’s eyes shot wide open and he spun around to face Ryoma, who was giving him that same dark, confident smirk from his Danganronpa self. His chest felt tight, and it took him a moment to recognize the sinister sensation of fear. Kaede burst into laughter, and then Ryoma started chuckling, too, and it hit Rantaro that he’d been rendered speechless twice now by this boy—this time, with a dumb look on his face that would probably be seared into their memories.

He wanted to glare, but seeing Ryoma so loosened up and happy was worth more than his pride. A brotherly affection fluttered in his chest. Rantaro stood up, took off Ryoma’s trademark hat, and ruffled his brown hair, spawning a pink tint to the smaller boy’s cheeks. Then he placed the hat back on the other’s head and headed into the kitchen to get a drink, making sure Ryoma caught his fond smile before his head turned away.

* * *

A week passed since they’d first visited Ryoma, and Kaede and Rantaro continued to prioritize visits with him for at least a half-hour every day. The boy’s sullen eyes crinkled with a childlike radiance whenever they entered, and when he was given permission to leave his room, he joined the two in the apartment building’s lounge area for Jenga and Trouble. They’d play board games for hours while Disney films or other nonviolent cartoons played in the background. They didn’t mention Danganronpa at all when they were around Ryoma, though they kept up-to-date with it in their free time. They were always watching together so they’d have someone to bring them back if they suffered a panic attack. It hadn’t happened yet, but sometimes, when she saw Shuichi listening to music in the piano room, or when Ryoma was drowned by Kirumi, or when Maki lifted Kokichi in the air by his neck, Kaede flung herself at the remote and turned the tv off with shaking hands and no warning. It was in those moments that Rantaro’s mind snapped out of its numb haziness and he went into big brother mode, pulling her into a comfortable position and letting her hold onto him for as long as she needed.

* * *

At the end of the week, Kirumi was given a little more freedom; she could leave her room, but she had to be supervised at all times. Somehow, Kaede managed to convince her to sit down with them as they binged the entire Harry Potter series and took turns playing Wizard’s Chess. After watching Kaede and Ryoma fail to checkmate Rantaro over and over and over again, Kirumi silently walked over to take her own turn at it. Needless to say, Rantaro didn’t stand the slightest chance against her; it was like a novice playing a grandmaster.

“I didn’t know you were so good at chess, Kirumi!”

“I never was,” she replied. Kaede went to argue, but Rantaro stopped her, understanding what Kirumi really meant—it wasn’t until Danganronpa instilled her with such knowledge that she could face him like this. The one good thing about Danganronpa was the newfound knowledge and talents it passed on to its victims; however, it often traumatized them so much that they needed to be put in mental institutions. In the worst case, their skills could be too dangerous to the world’s stability, and they’d be put under induced-amnesia. Those horror stories left a sour taste in Rantaro’s mouth, making him glad his character had just been an adventurer. He hoped they hadn’t put too much into Kirumi’s character that they had to take away her freedom. The girl was suffering enough as it was.

As the game quickly fell into endgame, Rantaro struggled not to get backed into a corner, but it was too late. Kirumi’s queen had him in constant check, and her use of bishops and knights was far more skilled than his. Ryoma sat at Rantaro’s side, gazing at the board quietly. He knew he was defeated, but not about to put him down by pointing it out. Rantaro respected that.

Meanwhile, Kaede shamelessly cheered the ex-maid on to victory, and Kirumi smiled shyly. It was her first real smile since she’d awoken. Rantaro couldn’t help but grin himself; her tactics were sharp, but her personality was gentle and hesitant. He added her to the growing list of people he’d protect from this world.

* * *

“I thought I was more important… But I was wrong.”

Everyone froze. They’d been in the middle of an argument over _ Up _, the movie that they’d been watching in the lounge. Their mouths were so filled with popcorn that the kernels dropped from their mouths onto the floor. Kaede was pushing Rantaro playfully when the solemn words fell from Kirumi’s lips, and the room became silent, save for the movie’s soundtrack in the background. Ryoma was sitting as far away from her as possible, trying to pretend she didn’t exist, but the sudden hush of the room made it nearly impossible.

With their full attention on her, Kirumi hesitantly continued. “I thought I had something to give to the world. I truly believed… with all my heart… that people _ needed _ and _ wanted _me.” She bit her lip, running a hand through her gray hair. “I… I just do not understand. Why would they raise my hopes… make me believe in a good lie… and then bring me back to this world with all the memories of my boring, shitty life I came here to avoid.”

Hearing Kirumi curse came as a shock; they were still used to her dignified stature and language. “... I apologize.” Her eyes glistened. “I… I’m just struggling to accept… that I’m back without a purpose, again.”

She sniffled, then stood up to excuse herself, but Kaede grabbed her hand, making her freeze in place. “Hey.” Her eyes were fierce, and so was her voice. “That was fiction. So what? This is real. And this is better than whatever those crappy writers could ever come up with.” She let go of Kirumi’s hand, but still held her gaze. “Your purpose? Getting the fuck back at them all. Be happy and talented and rich and loving life and stand on top of the world, while everyone who ever hurt you or held you back gets to tremble at your feet.” Kaede held out her hand. Rantaro noted how she didn’t take Kirumi’s hand forcibly this time, but instead offered her own. It was such a small thing, but Rantaro latched onto it. It was proof that the game hadn’t changed them completely. The Kaede from the games wouldn’t have given a second thought about it; she would have gotten right in Kirumi’s face, grabbed her hands and forced her to accept her words of encouragement. This Kaede, the real one, understood the importance of giving her a choice. “Stay with us... and we’ll make our purpose together.”

Her speech was harsh, but inspiring. Rantaro found himself stunned, but also strangely proud. Kirumi’s eyes flooded with tears as she took Kaede’s hand, and the ex-Ultimate Pianist jumped to her feet, consuming the ex-Ultimate Maid in a firm hug. Kirumi’s tough outer shell melted away in Kaede’s arms, until all that remained was Kirumi—the real Kirumi.

She pulled away from the blonde hesitantly once her tears had stopped flowing, smiling gently in an almost-shy way.

“Um… I think I ought to reintroduce myself… My name is Kirumi Tojo. I’m a black belt in Aikido, and in my free time, I like to do crafts, decorations, art, and read. I’m interested in studying politics, philosophy, and psychology, and my favorite animal is the hummingbird. Nice to meet you.” She bowed, looking a little nervous. Kaede laughed.

“Hi, Kirumi! My name is Kaede Akamatsu, and I used to be a member of our school’s rugby team.” Rantaro would have been surprised, but after getting to know Kaede, it wasn’t that big of a shock. “In my free time, I like to go shopping, listen to music, and binge watch television. Without Netflix, I’d be ** _dead_ **.” She looked serious at that last part, but no one questioned her. She glanced at Ryoma, who Rantaro had almost forgotten existed. “Ryoma, introduce yourself.”

Ryoma looked mortified that he was called out. “U-Uh…” His eyes met Kirumi’s for a moment, then dropped back down. “... Ryoma Hoshi… I… I like cats.” He pulled his beanie down over his eyes. “That’s all.”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that,” Kaede argued. “Favorite tv show? Favorite song? Favorite color?”

“... Don’t have a favorite show… Not anymore.” Rantaro nodded with an understanding grimace. “... Bohemian Rhapsody… Blue.”

“Good.” Kaede paused, waiting for Rantaro to face her before letting a wide smile creep across her face. “Ran-taaaaa-rooooo, it’s yoooour tuuuurn.”

He rolled his eyes. “The name’s Rantaro. I like to travel, maybe the world one day, and I like to be outdoors. Climbing, exploring, parkour, etc. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

They all smiled at one another, some meekly, some kindly. It would take some time, as all things did. But there was a renewed hope deep in their bones, a hope that, for once, they would have a place in the real world, a life of community and happiness some had been willing to pay with their lives for. No longer was suffering necessary—in this small room, two victims and two culprits made peace with one another, and a newfound friendship dug its roots in their hearts.


	3. She Was Strong

“A c-c-condim-minium…?” Mikan tilted her head to the side, gray eyes slanted in confusion. “F-For you and K-Kaede, or…?”

“For everyone,” Rantaro replied, only slightly annoyed that Mikan had the wrong idea about their relationship. He didn’t bring it up; he had no intention of listening to her long apologies. “Somewhere safe, a little secluded but close enough to the city and to nature. Big enough to comfortably house all sixteen of us, both in terms of rooms and general living space. There has to be a room large enough for a piano, a kitchen and dining room for sixteen, and a living room where we can all watch movies together and have somewhere nice to sit. All the highest security measures, but I don’t want anyone spying on us without our consent and awareness. And I need it all approved within the week, because we want to start moving in before everyone’s out of the game.”

“Y-Y-You’ve really thought this through…” Mikan’s hands were clasped together, her gray eyes turned to the floor. “This sort of thing has never happened before… Not even o-our group made it out in one piece… That was when they realized the talents could be too much… Hajime and Nagito were put under, but… Their brains had been altered to the point their minds could no longer function… And Ibuki went partying one night and m-mixed too many drugs and alcohol… A-And th-they d-didn’t have the security they have now… s-s-so H-Hiyoko was…”

“Mikan,” Rantaro placed his hands on her shoulders; she let out a peep and fell silent. “I understand. You don’t have to go through it again.” She nodded, murmuring an apology as her eyes stared back down at her feet. “To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be here right now, either. But… well, the four of us have a pretty good thing going. I guess Kaede really plans on keeping that promise she made back in the game. And I’ll take any chance I can get to throw a big fat middle-finger in Team Danganronpa’s face after what they put us through.”

“M-M-Me too,” Mikan whispered. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Rantaro pulled away from her so he could look down at it. It was a white business card, with mostly black text on it, although there was some red. It reminded him of Monokuma, the stupid mascot of the killing games. “H-Here. This is the card of someone you can order to look into it.”

Rantaro blinked, allowing her to pass the card into his hand. “‘Order?’”

“Now that you’re out of the killing game, they owe you a lifelong debt. All survivors earn a lifetime without work, a constant salary -- might as well put it to use. He has to at least listen to your demands, according to the contract you signed in the beginning, and if he denies them, he is required to go to court and plead his case. I’m sure he’ll accept. Just don’t accept less than exactly what you want.”

Rantaro glanced at her hardened expression, wondering what she’d seen to make her say that. He nodded, tucking away the card in his pocket. “Thanks, Mikan.”

He heard a curse from across the room and raised an eyebrow at Kaede, who was sitting on one side of the coffee table, glaring at the chessboard that sat on top. Kirumi was sitting on the other end, murmuring something to her in that quiet, ever-so-polite manner. Earlier, Kirumi had offered to teach Kaede some chess tactics, and the blonde pianist eagerly accepted, hoping to take what she learned into her games with Rantaro. It appeared her patience was running up; she never did have much time for learning, from what he could tell. It was the main reason she never took up piano in real life; she didn’t have the patience to keep at it. She was better at physical things, like rugby, where in the heat of the moment, she threw everything she had into every action. (And yet, in a simple game of Jenga, she was too afraid of risks to make an uncalculated move... Kaede really was an enigma.)

Ryoma, on the other hand, was sitting on the couch behind Kaede, with his knees pulled up to his chest. He wore baggy black sweatpants and a white t-shirt that looked too big for him. It was tucked into his pants, and covered in paw print designs. His eyes were glued to the tv that hung on the wall, keeping up with the events of the current killing game.

After a long talk, they’d all reluctantly agreed to have someone keep watch over the game’s events at all times. They made predictions about what might happen, but it wasn’t with the excitement of an avid viewer. Kaede was proud of Shuichi’s developing courage, though; it didn’t go unnoticed that he was opening up to the others and becoming a major participant in the class trial. The first time she saw him take off his hat, she weeped for him. Her eye was always on him, even when the room was full.

Rantaro, on the other hand, was more curious about Kokichi. He wasn’t sure what the boy was up to, but it was clear he wasn’t just fooling around. There was a method to his madness, a hint of logic obscured in clouds of lies and erratic behavior. Rantaro’s eyes always fell on Kokichi, looking for moments of honesty, moments that could help him pinpoint the truth of his character. He wasn’t getting far.

Kaede glanced up at the television every once in a while, but it only distracted her from the game; Kirumi looked whenever Kaede took too long making her move. Rantaro didn’t like to miss any of the show -- the littlest details gave away the most, he’d found -- but since it broadcast almost every moment of their days (avoiding the most boring and uneventful), it was pretty much impossible to watch it all.

Rantaro’s eyes flickered back to Ryoma when he spotted movement from behind Kaede’s head. Ryoma’s left hand was over his right arm, scratching deep into the skin. Rantaro sighed; at least he’d had his nails cut recently, so he wasn’t drawing blood, but still, they needed to have a talk about that habit of his. It hadn’t developed from the game; it was something Ryoma had in his past life, his real one, which made it harder for him to let go of. But Rantaro didn’t want to see any of them hurting, not now, not when they were starting something, something that actually felt a little like  _ hope _ .

Mikan spoke up again, almost making Rantaro jump; he’d forgotten she was there. “The others have been in the game for much longer than the rest of you… The initial shock of the killing game has subsided, and become something more typical and routine for them. It will take longer for each of them to recover, if at all. And even when they do, some of them may not agree to join you in living together in one space. E-Especially with those who they’ve grown to hate… or who they think have wronged them.”

Rantaro’s mind wandered to Angie, whose cult had garnered her much spite, and the seemingly mutual hatred between Maki and Kokichi. “I know. It won’t be easy. But I have to try. I made a promise, you know, and god help me if Kaede catches me backing out.”

He meant for Mikan to take that as a joke, but her face was serious again. She opened her mouth like she had something to say, then closed it and seemed to shake her head. He gave her a look of confusion, and she bowed stiffly. “I have to go check on the other patients.” Mikan spun around and began walking off down the hallway, her shoes clacking with each step she took. The other nurses standing around near the coffee machine gave her slight bows in respect as she walked by. To her patients, Mikan was gentle, but to those affiliated with Team Danganronpa, she could be cold and unflinching. Rantaro was glad Mikan pulled through when so many of the other survivors couldn’t. She was undeniably strong.

Once she was out of the room, Rantaro went back to the couch and dropped beside Ryoma, who flinched. Rantaro gently held Ryoma’s left wrist and pulled it away from his arm. He could see the red scratch marks and peeled skin on the other boy’s right arm. “Ryoma, you can’t be doing that to yourself,” he told him softly. Ryoma looked down in shame.

Instead of going further or allowing a silence to fall between them, Rantaro gestured toward the television. “So, what’d I miss?” Ryoma glanced back up at the screen.

“I looked away when it happened,” he admitted. “... But, Angie was murdered. They discovered her body only recently.”

“Who?” Rantaro asked, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t too surprised by the victim’s identity, but the others involved were important.

“Korekiyo did it. It’s gonna be hard to pin him down, though. That creep didn’t leave too much evidence. Shuichi, Kokichi, Maki, Himiko, and Tenko found the body the next morning.”

Rantaro nodded, pondering those details as they continued watching the investigation unfold. Knowing it was Korekiyo’s doing made his current actions seem even more suspicious. He wondered if Shuichi and Kokichi were suspecting him, too.

They continued to watch the investigation play out, dread in the pits of their stomachs as the seance began. The mere fact that Tenko was requested to be silent gave Rantaro an inkling of what was about to go down. When they heard the floorboard being stomped on, Ryoma jumped. Rantaro shifted so their legs touched. Ryoma pulled down his beanie and went silent for the rest of the video.

Kaede and Kirumi had stopped playing their game when they heard Korekiyo singing the seance song; the show now had their full attention. Their expressions softened in pity at Himiko’s desperate cry as she tried to get to Tenko. But it was too late; Tenko was dead. Rantaro felt a rising resentment for Korekiyo building inside him. He knew it wasn’t really Kiyo -- the game was designed to make him act this way, his personality and background formulated just to turn him into a killer, but… It was difficult not to feel for Himiko in this moment.

“Two of them, gone at once?” Kaede crossed her arms, looking a bit pale.

“Yeah. Seems like we’ll have three of them joining us in a couple days,” Rantaro responded. The room went quiet, listening to Himiko’s wails and the sound of the Monokuma Body Announcement, as that fact mulled over in Rantaro’s head. Three of them… Their numbers were close to doubling.

“We need to get ready for them,” Rantaro stated, jumping to his feet. Ryoma followed him, walking quickly to match his pace. He’d noticed the shorter boy liked to keep by his side; he was more clingy than either of the girls, which Rantaro found odd. He never had a brother, only sisters, so he didn’t know exactly how to treat him, but it seemed like he was doing it right.

Rantaro tapped Kaede on the shoulder as he walked past. “Let’s go.” She glared down at her position on the board.

“It’s all right, Kaede. We’ll work on your endgame later.” Kirumi stood up, her eyes passing over Rantaro. “Do we even have the approval to go shopping?”

Kaede’s eyes lit up. “Shopping?”  
Kirumi looked at her with an amused smile. “Was that not clear?”

“I’m not worried,” Rantaro replied, waving it off. “They owe us anyway.”

* * *

Rantaro was almost beginning to regret this decision. He was in the aisle for artistic supplies, but it didn’t occur to him just how much there was. He had no idea what brands Angie would prefer, or even what kind of art she liked best -- drawing, painting, sculpting… Thank god he had Kirumi there, because he couldn’t even focus on any of that, what with the stares people were giving them, and how even their bodyguards kept turning to scrutinize them. Ryoma looked seconds away from a panic attack, and Kaede kept trying to slip past the guards to stroll through the other aisles. It didn’t help that people were taking pictures of them with their phones, and Kaede wasn’t exactly concealing much in her short skirt and tank top combo. Rantaro felt on edge, and he was a generally laid-back guy. But Kirumi was keeping him grounded, giving him a knowing smile whenever he turned back to the task at hand.

Rantaro hadn’t been in the greatest mood since they left, anyway. He’d bothered some of the Team Danganronpa officials for information on Angie and Tenko’s past lives -- just the basics of what they liked or didn’t like, their hobbies and extracurriculars, favorite colors, anything about them they might have on file -- but they were denied immediately, without any consideration. Then they warned him they had to be back in three hours, because Kirumi had a required “mental examination”, which really put him on edge. He wasn’t sure exactly what they’d be “examining”;  _ he  _ never had to be put through one.

When Rantaro had stormed out of the room, followed by the four assigned bodyguards, Kaede had asked, “Why do you want to know that stuff? Isn’t it personal?” Rantaro shook his head in response, replying, “I want them, when they come back to us, to see that we know they’re different from their game selves. That we know they’re more than that.”

“Oh, I see.” Kaede had crossed her arms, looking thoughtful. Then she jumped, clasping her hands together. “But what about Disney? Everyone has to love Disney!” So when they entered the store, Disney merch was the first thing Kaede looked for, and a life-sized Stitch plush was the first thing she added to the cart. It lay at the bottom of the cart, crushed beneath a couple yoga mats and a canvas.

“I hope we can all stay friends after this!” Kaede said in a bubbly tone, as Rantaro checked that they’d gotten everything on their list. Ryoma was looking longingly towards the pet care aisle, but he seemed content enough with the box of candy cigarettes, gummy worms, and Warheads Rantaro threw in for him.

Rantaro folded up the list, satisfied. “All right, ready to head out?”

Kaede and Ryoma nodded, Kaede a bit disappointed, Ryoma glad to get out of the spotlight already. Kirumi, however, was strangely quiet. Rantaro took notice and asked her what was wrong. She hesitated.

“... What about Korekiyo?”

The other three froze. They hadn’t even considered getting anything for  _ him _ . They weren’t exactly excited by the idea that he might join them, after how he’d been acting the whole time. Despite claiming they wanted  _ everyone  _ to be friends, subconsciously they didn’t really mean  _ everyone _ .

“He will be here just as soon as the others. We will need something to make him to feel more at ease, too. Perhaps books, or trinkets, although I doubt we’ll find those here.” Kirumi glanced down at her feet. “Either way… he  _ is  _ one of us. We will need to accommodate him, as well, because… I doubt he’ll come out of this experience unscarred.” She glanced up at Kaede, whose eyes widened as the realization hit. She, Kirumi, and Korekiyo did have something in common -- only they had experienced an execution at Monokuma’s hands. And dying like that… It wasn’t something  _ anyone  _ should wake up from alone, regardless of what they’d done.

Kaede glanced at the others, seeing their uncomfortable expressions. “... Yeah. We need to help everyone,” she stated. “Because… It’s Team Danganronpa that caused this. Not us.”

Begrudgingly, they all agreed. Team Danganronpa was their enemy, and they would win by showing they could overcome their bias and stick together. No matter what the game’s engineers did to pull them apart.

* * *

The four of them really did become a family. They supported one another through everything. They spent most nights together in one bed -- Kirumi on the left side, Kaede sprawled out between her and Rantaro, and Ryoma curled up against Rantaro’s side. They ate meals together when they weren’t required to be somewhere else, like when Rantaro needed to discuss the logistics of his condominium idea with the people in charge, or when any of them needed to attend a mandatory therapy session. They were becoming shorter in length and less frequent, especially for Kaede and Rantaro, who hadn’t been in days, but although Kirumi and Ryoma were making progress, they still had bad enough days that the appointments seemed necessary.

For instance, there were days, or long parts of days, when Kirumi isolated herself in her room and would refuse to eat meals or have visitors. Kaede was able to get a message through, however, promising that she was there for her if she needed anything. Kirumi wouldn’t respond; she’d just clench her sheets with her fists, listen to her grumbling stomach, and wish for the world, or at least her existence in it, to just fade into blissful nothingness. There were days when her eyes rarely felt dry, and there were days when she felt so cold and numb but could do nothing to make the feeling pass.

Ryoma looked at her sometimes with sad eyes, like he wished he could do something, but he was too afraid to approach her. He closed his eyes and remembered her serious stare boring down on his back during the killing game, the menacing aura of a woman about to kill. He remembered her fists clenching the back of his head -- his hair, his neck -- forcing him into the water, where his lungs burned like hell and all he wanted was to  _ breathe _ . But he tried to forget, because when he remembered, he was in it again, and he couldn’t breathe, and people would rush in to try and stop him from passing out, and he’d have to see the guilt in her eyes, as if she knew it was her fault. He couldn’t even sleep right half of the time, because he had so many nightmares of those moments leading up to his death. Usually he woke silently in the middle of the night and stayed awake until morning, the only sign of his misery being the bags under his eyes. But once or twice he screamed in his dreams, or as he woke up, and the other three would come rushing in. They’d gotten there before the Team Danganronpa staff and locked the door so no one could intrude. Rantaro and Kaede jumped on the bed immediately and pulled him close, reassuring him that everything was over, that he was safe. Kirumi just watched from the door, feeling completely worthless because there was nothing she could do. She knew it was her fault, all her fault, and though she wanted to be there to fix it, she didn’t want to make it worse.

Most of the time, Kirumi and Ryoma were awkward around one another, acknowledging the other’s presence but doing little more. It wasn’t because they despised each other, because they didn’t. But forgiveness was beyond their control, because how do you forgive a puppet for what it did while being pulled by strings? They coexisted, but they couldn’t fully move on.

* * *

Sooner than expected, Angie had awoken and was free to come and go from her room as she pleased. They were all shocked by her relative calmness and adaptability to the situation. Her smiles didn’t even seem that forced, though the other survivors were all skeptical.

One thing they quickly learned was that she didn’t have an accent. She wasn’t actually an islander, either; the team behind Danganronpa just noted her dark complexion and thought it was the perfect opportunity to repeat what they called the “Sonia” tactic -- taking a beautiful girl from another culture and presenting her upbringing as mysterious and exotic. It irritated Kaede, who saw her islander design as an excuse to show off more of Angie’s body without her consent, but Angie didn’t seem to mind. Her voice sounded very different without the accent, but she still had a rather cheery attitude. The first thing she did when she saw the others was hug them each individually, after which she threw dozens of questions their way, chattering nonstop to fill in the silence.

Although Angie didn’t go around preaching her religion, she was very persistent about the “no working on Sunday” rule -- or so she called it when one of the nurses came into her room and Angie scared her off by throwing a slipper in her face.

Angie walked around in fluffy pajamas every day, no matter the time; they were Frozen-themed, the top being a cozy white sweater and the bottom being a wintery blue with repeated Olaf designs. She also had Olaf slippers on, which she took off to whack people with, though it was always done in good spirit. She had many quirks, one of which was her tendency to pick locks and sneak in rooms to kiss everyone goodnight, even if they were already asleep. Then she would crawl in bed with one of them, seemingly random each time, and laugh about it in the morning. They never saw her particularly upset, and although she did seem childish at times, she had a knack for comforting others and lifting the mood. The next time Ryoma screamed in his dreams, she snuck in before anyone else and was holding him in her arms, kissing his forehead and pressing her cheek against the side of his head while she stroked his back. She’d glanced up at the others, then smiled and said, “Angie’s got this. You all can go back to sleep now.” For some reason, they didn’t argue, and retreated to their rooms. Within minutes, Angie was able to soothe him back to sleep; he didn’t have any nightmares the rest of the night.

Her carefree nature and lovable personality made them smile, though they were still hesitant sometimes around her, like they expected her to still drag them into some sort of strange cult. She happily accepted the art tools they provided and began using them right away. Whenever she wasn’t involved in some sort of art project, she was shattering the silence somehow, livening up the place. Angie was the center of attention whenever she wanted to be, and when she didn’t, she was so quiet and invested in her work that they forgot she was there. It made it difficult to tell whether something was bothering her, but they had the feeling she would just brush it off if they asked.

Tenko, on the other hand, wasn’t permitted to leave on the same day as Angie. Angie took quicker to adapt than anyone, even Rantaro, but Tenko took about as long as Kirumi did. Her concern for Himiko and the recent trauma of her death left her bewildered and anxious; she was placed on anti-anxiety medication immediately (apparently she had needed it even before the game, so she was able to get it rather quickly). She didn’t want to leave the small room assigned to her, and little seemed to be able to calm her down, besides soup and hot chocolate. The only time she let someone lead her out of the room was when Kaede offered to play the piano for her. She’d gently taken her hand, though Tenko refused to touch anyone else, male or female. Kaede sat on the piano bench, looking strained for a minute, like she’d forgotten how to play, but then her fingers were moving, and Clair de lune by Claude Debussy filled the room. Tenko fell asleep before the performance was over, but Kaede continued playing for about an hour, unable to make herself stop. It was almost frightening, how entranced she became in her own skill, in the music she played. She didn’t even notice when Rantaro started tapping her on the shoulder, letting her know it was time to stop and eat.

The next day, Tenko followed Kaede around like a lost puppy, grief shadowing her face. She asked Kaede to play piano for her again, because she could hardly sleep without it. There was no way the Ultimate pianist could refuse.

“But, Tenko… why don’t you spend some time with us today?” She suggested. “We could play board games and get to know one another.” But Tenko shook her head, her body becoming jittery.

“N-No, I’m all right.” Then she excused herself as quickly as possibly and rushed back to her room. She didn’t come out for board games.

The next time they saw her, it was a surprise. The five other Ultimates were sitting in the living room area, watching the third class trial play out on the television. They watched as Himiko angrily defended Tenko when it was suggested that finding her killer was pointless. They watched as the typically lazy, emotion-obscuring magician opened up to the others, finally expressing herself and contributing as much as she could in honor of her lost friend. The five Ultimates were smiling until they heard the sniffles from behind them, and they turned their heads to find Tenko standing there with her glassy eyes fixed on the screen, tears streaming down her face. But they were proud tears.

That didn’t stop Kaede from wrapping her up in a big hug. She was drawn to the couch, where she pulled herself up against Kaede and allowed herself to be comforted. Because knowing Himiko was all right made all her pain manageable.

If Himiko could be strong, so could she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahhhh. I was supposed to finish writing the next chapter before publishing this one, but when I did my read and revise, I just couldn't help it. I'm just satisfied with how this one turned out and wanted to put it up. So here it is!  
The next couple chapters won't include Korekiyo, Miu, and Gonta yet; there's some important development with our current group of kids that's going to happen first. Yay for pacing~  
Let me know if you have any questions or concerns, and I hope you enjoyed! Stay safe!


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